


Mid-Winter Fumblings

by GaymerOnMain



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: 'Shut up gay thoughts I just want to go back to sleep', Fantasizing, I'm so sorry Snorkmaiden your man's got his mind elsewhere, Is that the right tag to use here? IDK, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Moomintroll is not necessarily a reliable narrator, Pining, Repression, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27888754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaymerOnMain/pseuds/GaymerOnMain
Summary: The imagination can be a truly powerful beast. It can take you to worlds beyond your wildest dreams, and it can bring to light all sorts of possibilities that you couldn’t begin to consider before. It can also dig deep within you and bring your mind to unwanted depths, cruelly revealing parts of yourself that you normally wouldn’t dare acknowledge.Moomintroll learns all of this the hard way when a heated dream plagues his mind and heart in the middle of a cold, lonely winter.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Mid-Winter Fumblings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lads, I had another Moomin smut idea. Again, what is my life.
> 
> This one gets a bit… steamier than the other one, but I still tried to make it relatively tasteful.
> 
> If the idea of Moomintroll rubbin’ one out makes you (understandably) uncomfortable, please turn away now. Thanks, and I hope everyone else enjoys it.

Smooth paws, caressing down his sides, slender fingers carding through thick fur. Gripping onto scratchy, tattered fabric, the smells of nature flooding his senses. A gentle voice, low and sweet, soft breaths making fur stand up on end. Warm, gentle brown eyes, full of an affection too strong to bear. An urge to hold tight and never let go. And being welcomed to do so with open arms.

Paws moving lower, lower, touching the most delicate of places. A burning heat, simmering under the surface, set to boil over at any moment. The tender reassurances, the soft moans and whines bubbling from within. Cool skin brushing against his cheek, and soft lips igniting a fire wherever they pressed against.

The pressure, building higher and higher. It’s hard to stay still. Paws moving faster, grip getting tighter. The heat is overwhelming, too much to handle.

A mind in shambles and a heart kicked into overdrive, and a shuddering groan, only one name on his lips.

_“Snuf–”_

– – –

Moomintroll’s eyes darted wide open.

Plunged from the overbearing heat of his dreams into the chilly stillness of reality, he hastily looked around at his surroundings. He was in his bedroom. In the middle of winter, peacefully hibernating in his snug, cozy bed.

Except, with the way his whole body felt like it was on fire right then, that snug coziness felt more like a suffocating swelter.

He pushed his blankets down to the end of the bed, leaving just a single sheet covering him, and turned on his side. He considered sticking one of his legs out the side of the bed to cool himself down more, but he didn’t feel like dealing with a certain monster under the bed biting him when he fell back asleep.

When he fell back asleep…

…Which didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon, Moomintroll realised, as he felt a distinct uncomfortableness between his legs. Hesitantly, he lifted the sheet and investigated. Yep. There it was. Completely emerged from the fur between his thighs, with not an ounce of shame or subtlety. Moomintroll groaned miserably. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it go away by sheer willpower. He’d have to take matters into his own paws.

But first, he cautiously poked his leg out the side of the bed and waited a few moments.

…No bite. It seemed that Little My hadn’t decided to hibernate under Moomintroll’s bed that year after all. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or frustrated, because now he had no excuse to not go through with this.

He sighed dramatically and rolled onto his back. He didn’t allow himself to even consider thinking about the very dream that must have brought this on in the first place. He just bit the bullet and slipped his paw under the sheet.

He started by slowly tracing his fingers along the length of his privates, as if testing the waters, letting out a shaky breath as he felt how completely stiff it was. He didn’t let himself think too deeply about _why_ that was, though, instead opting to stare at the ceiling in an attempt to keep his mind completely blank. Swiftly deciding that he just needed to get this over with, he wrapped his fingers around himself and began to stroke at a mechanically quick pace. All he needed to do was keep stroking until he was finished, and keep his mind on that one dirty spot on the ceiling the whole time. Easy.

So, he stroked and stroked and stroked, rigid and detached, and he kept this up for several minutes… but it just wasn’t working. He was too tense to feel any sort of actual pleasure from his motions, and he just felt tired from moving his arm so rapidly and constantly. He woefully realised that he needed to be less detached about this if he wanted it to be over more quickly.

He closed his eyes and tried to shift his thoughts to Snorkmaiden. Beautiful, wonderful Snorkmaiden. Her lovely fringe framing her dark brown eyes, her beautifully plump belly, her impossibly soft fur… She was truly stunning. Moomintroll sighed, a slight thrum of pleasure running through him as he slowly stroked himself. It was working.

He imagined her paw adoringly stroking him; her lovely, feminine voice praising him; the short hairs of her snout tickling his chest. He imagined a growing heat, fur meeting fur, paws moving faster, brown eyes gazing at him with a newfound passion, a flat chest pressed against his own round one, a vague roughness rubbing up against him, a mellow voice whispering in his ear – low and soft and wonderfully _deep_ –

His fur bristled and he shook his head frantically. _No, no, no,_ he internally berated himself, _Stop it!_

He took a deep breath, and he tried again. He began stroking, gently touching and rubbing all the parts he knew would send shock waves up his spine, trying his very best to imagine that it was his lovely Snorkmaiden touching him in such a way. But as he went on, again, _as always,_ his mind started to drift. The furry paws in his imagination turned smooth, and the lilted, ladylike voice praising him lowered and lowered in pitch until every imagined utterance sent little thrills through his body. He groaned in frustration – and pleasure, though he wouldn’t be able to admit that right then – at how hopelessly his thoughts had slipped away from him, and so quickly at that.

He was just completely unable to stop thinking about the dream he had.

It wasn’t the first time he had had this kind of dream about Snufkin. The first time it happened, he brushed it off as a weird one-off. The second time it happened, he brushed it off again, with admittedly less confidence. By the third time, it was getting hard to ignore, but he pushed himself to do so anyway. And now, well… he couldn’t get thoughts of slender fingers and deep whispers out of his mind, and he felt himself twitch and shiver at the mere concept of it, as much as he was sure that he shouldn’t.

He had definitely found himself in quite the dilemma. He wanted to go to sleep, but he needed to resolve his… situation first. He couldn’t make any progress by keeping his mind blank, and he couldn’t have thoughts of Snorkmaiden without his mind drifting… It was becoming more and more dreadfully clear to Moomintroll that he would have to bite the bullet once again, and just let his mind drift. It seemed to be the only way he was going to actually get anywhere, unless he wanted to spend hours and hours wrestling with his thoughts. His need for sleep outweighed his guilt, and so he woefully brought his paw back to his privates.

 _Sorry, Snorkmaiden. And sorry, Snufkin,_ he dramatically thought to himself as he began gently stroking himself once again. This time, he allowed his thoughts to wander, tentatively at first. He envisioned soft, smooth paws running along his sides, eerily similar to his dream, and he resisted the urge to push the thought away. The imaginary paws would slide their way upwards and gently cup his face, bringing his snout down to look at–

No, no, he wasn’t ready to imagine Snufkin’s face just yet. His fur bristled at the mere suggestion of seeing Snufkin’s expression in such an intimate scenario, even in his imagination. The imaginary paws swiftly moved down to Moomintroll’s waist, instead, gently caressing it in a way that made his heart beat just a little bit faster. _I can’t believe I’m doing this…_ he thought, but he made no effort to stop.

As he continued his slow, teasing movements, his mind continued on ahead of him, dragging him along for the ride like an overzealous fish pulling at a fishing line. He imagined one of the caressing paws creeping up over his belly, the slender fingers running through the thick fur on his chest, the soft fingertips brushing against the lighter fur on his snout… He could quite clearly imagine that paw – that paw that he always found himself longing to hold – coming up to cup his cheek, and…

Before he could try and keep himself in check, he was flooded with the idea of a pointy nose rubbing softly against the fur on his neck. He gasped lightly, imagining how lovely the contrast would feel, so different from the typical round snout of a Moomin or a Snork. This was a line of thinking that he could handle. He began stroking himself a little harder, and with his other paw, he gripped onto the sheet that was covering him. Not as scratchy as he would have liked… but it would suffice.

The pointy, imaginary nose would nuzzle and nuzzle, the thought of each loving little movement sending little shots of warmth to Moomintroll’s chest. He couldn’t help but wonder then – creatures like Snufkin typically used their mouths to kiss, didn’t they? He had seen the Mymble do it a few times, and of course, he had always wondered if Snufkin did it in the same way. Soon enough, like clockwork, the imaginary nose against his neck became a pair of soft, pursed lips, and he was awash with a burning curiosity. He imagined the paw on his cheek gently lifting up his snout, and the lips coming tantalisingly close to his own… and with a whisper of reassurance, bridging the gap and showing him exactly what he was so curious about– and oh, that sent a delightful warmth flooding him. He let out a light moan, quickly realising how much he liked the idea of Snufkin satisfying his curiosity, showing him things he had never known before.

Moomintroll was curious about a lot of things, he realised all too quickly. He wondered what Snufkin’s lips would feel like against his own – would they be chapped and rough from exposure to the elements? He wondered if Snufkin would act differently, holding him so closely – would he be more handsy, more doting? More willing to be doted on? He wondered how it would feel to let his own paws wander, and he found himself longing to discover for himself all ways in which his best friend’s body was different, or similar, to his own.

As he trembled and panted at how _good_ these floods of thoughts were making him feel, he found himself teetering dangerously close to a particular curiosity of his that deeply, deeply embarrassed him. He wanted to know how it would feel to be intimate with someone so… _similar_ to himself. He wanted to know _so badly._ He had only ever been with Snorkmaiden, and other girls had caught his eye a few times… Would it be any different?

If anyone knew the answer, Moomintroll was sure that it would be Snufkin. Snufkin never really talked about these sorts of intimate topics, but there were probably lots of parts of his life that Moomintroll was never told about. Snufkin was such a wise person, with such a vast knowledge of the world. He surely knew how to navigate these sorts of intimate encounters, probably had experience in that department, and the thought made Moomintroll feel more excited than it should have. Soon enough, that metaphorical fish pulling at his fishing line was sending him tumbling overboard. The thoughts and images inserting themselves into his head were getting ahead of themselves, leaving him completely awash with thoughts of Snufkin satisfying his deepest curiosities, taking charge and showing him _exactly_ how to touch another boy, leaning over him and teaching him by example–

Moomintroll squirmed and shivered. One could get drunk off of this sort of fantasising, he thought. He needed to step back a little. He needed to control himself. He was sure that Snufkin would hate it if he knew his dear friend was having these sorts of thoughts about him. He knew that Snufkin didn’t like being overly adored, and this was _far_ beyond adoration. The last thing Moomintroll wanted was to make his best friend uncomfortable.

…But oh, he was getting extraordinarily worked up now. He felt a grand warmth shooting through him with every stroke he gave himself, and in this kind of worked-up state, all of his better judgement had flown out the window. He just couldn’t help himself.

And so, he continued to wonder. He wondered about all the ways that Snufkin could make him feel good, all the new experiences that Snufkin could show him. He wondered about holding that messy nest of hair between his fingers, about those warm eyes gazing at him with an unspoken fondness, about those paws gently touching him in ways he couldn’t have brought himself to imagine until now. He wondered about that wonderfully soft, dreamy voice, the same voice that told him about grand winter adventures and created beautiful tunes that could never leave his head.

 _“Your lips are so soft,”_ he imagined that gentle voice whispering against him. _“I could stay here like this forever,”_ it would say before leaning in and kissing him again, so eager and loving. He imagined all sorts of lovely things that Snufkin could say to him, close and low and only meant for his ears. It sent little shivers all the way to his fingertips.

Deep down, he knew that it was terribly unrealistic for Snufkin to be so affectionate. Snufkin never hugged him or complimented him, and it was rare for him to do something as simple as holding paws. He was too much of a free spirit to be tied down by such affections, and Moomintroll knew this all too well. But right then, he found it increasingly difficult to care about such bitter truths, and he allowed himself to indulge in these fantasies – if only to get this over with, go back to sleep, and forget about this whole thing.

…Well, that’s what he would tell himself later. For now, he was far too caught up in this _idea_ of Snufkin that his mind and heart were cruelly tormenting him with.

His thoughts were beginning to get bolder, now. The pure desire running through him had his mind going to places he wouldn’t dare approach under normal circumstances, and he was in too much of a state to even think about denying himself of such indulgent thoughts. All he wanted in that moment was to keep chasing this high. His imaginary Snufkin was now fully leant over him, unabashedly looking directly at him with a cool, determined expression. Before Moomintroll could even begin to recover from such a fur-bristling idea, his thoughts yanked the fishing line along yet again – and he was suddenly faced with a very clear image of a much smoother paw than his own rubbing against his privates. He let out a shuddering breath. He didn’t know it was _possible_ for a thought to make one feel so good.

Egged on by this brilliant feeling, he sped up his stroking a little, as gentle but firm as his foggy mind was convinced that Snufkin would be. He could just imagine that smooth skin rubbing against him with skill that he hadn’t known. Showing him what he had been missing out on for all these years, showing him a whole new world of possibilities.

 _“Oh, Moomintroll,”_ that lovely voice would say to him in a hushed tone. _“You like this, don’t you?”_

He felt a warm jab in his gut at the thought of such naughty playfulness coming from such a mild voice. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from making too loud a noise. He didn’t want to wake anyone up.

 _“You’re doing very well,”_ that lovely voice would say as it leaned in a little closer.

The thought of such praise coming from someone so wonderfully admirable only sent more warm jabs shooting through him, whining gently through his bitten lip.

 _“That’s it…”_ that lovely voice would whisper a little impishly, breath brushing against the fur of his ear. _“Good boy.”_

He felt a grand, deeply confusing twist in his gut at that thought, the foreignness of such a commanding thing coming out of Snufkin’s mouth putting him on edge like nothing ever had before.

It was all too much for a poor Moomin to bear, and he felt like he was a pot that was about to overflow. The sheet that was covering him had long been kicked off – he was just so overwhelmingly _hot,_ the heat simmering within him rising higher and higher, burning him beneath his fur… and he felt an exciting, debauched instinct bubbling to the surface, on the tip of his tongue.

“Sn…”

 _“Go on,”_ that wonderfully warm voice would encourage him. _“You can do it.”_

“Sn-Snufkin…” he whimpered, barely a whisper. He felt dirty even saying it, but oh, what a shiver it sent down his spine. The floodgates were well and truly open.

He was stroking himself at a vigorous pace now, mouth agape and panting wildly. He desperately tried to stay quiet, but he couldn’t control the little whines that escaped him from time to time. He had completely gone off the rails now, his mind and heart overwhelmed with Snufkin, Snufkin, _Snufkin,_ any sort of shame or guilt thrown by the wayside. And it all felt so _exhilarating,_ to be plunged so deep into this side of himself that he had tried so desperately not to acknowledge.

The heat within him kept burning wildly, so hot that he felt like it was the middle of summer, his cheeks flushed terribly and his legs trembling pitifully. He was almost there, so close to achieving that high he so desperately needed, he just needed that little push over the edge–

 _“Moomintroll,”_ he impulsively imagined that voice breathing against his fur, brimming with an unfathomable awe and devotion. _“I love you.”_

And all at once, it ended with a bang; the biggest, best bang he had ever felt. It crashed over him like a wave, starting at his privates and radiating all the way out to the tips of his fingers and toes, his entire being trembling at the sensation. He had to hastily clamp his paw over his mouth to muffle the tremendous cry that was ripped out of him, and he writhed and bucked helplessly as he stroked harder and faster, wanting this feeling to last as long as possible.

Slowly, he began to settle down, his arched back lowering back down onto the mattress and his paw slipping away from his mouth, a little moist with drool. As he laid there and panted heavily, the clouds of desire started to clear from his head, and clarity returned to him.

 _I’m the worst best friend ever…_ he thought pitifully, as he reached over to the tissue box sitting on his bedside table and yanked out some tissues from it. He sat up and wiped up the mess he had made with a steady frown on his face, before lazily chucking the used tissues onto the floor next to the bedside table. He’d dispose of them properly when he woke up from hibernation. He didn’t have the will to do it right then.

He then flopped back down onto the mattress and pulled up his sheet and blankets so that they were covering him, snug and warm for the cold winter weather. He found himself just staring at the ceiling for a few moments, and he sighed deeply as it truly sunk in just how unrealistic his imaginings truly were. He felt dreadfully silly for letting himself indulge in such a thing. He allowed himself a brief period of wallowing in his own despair, before he turned onto his side and shut his eyes. He buried his head deep into his pillow, perfectly ready to just put this night behind him and forget about everything he had done and thought throughout this whole ordeal.

Distantly, he wondered if he would feel awkward when he saw Snufkin again in the spring, after such an act of debauchery. And how would he feel when he saw _Snorkmaiden?_ But he shook his head, and firmly reminded himself that he wasn’t going to think about it. He was going to move on and act like none of this ever happened, and he wasn’t going to do anything like this again. He felt firm in these guilt-ridden assertions as he drifted off to sleep.

But how long would it be until he had another one of those dreams?

**Author's Note:**

> Good ol’ post-nut clarity. We’ve all been there, am I right fellas? 😔
> 
> I tried to make it very clear here that Snufkin’s not supposed to be all that in-character in this story, because Moomintroll’s imagining this weird idealised version of him… Not that every part of him here is out-of-character, but there’s certainly parts where Moomintroll gets carried away and imagines Snufkin doing or saying something he’d never do or say in reality. (Like the “Good boy” bit for example sjdkhgdjsk I hope that didn’t come across as cringe-worthy lol, it's supposed to be uncharacteristic but weirdly appealing to Moomintroll haha)
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys liked it. Gotta love that combination of steamy, sweet, and depressing! (At least, I hope I pulled off that combination decently well!)


End file.
